


Never Enough

by Jakaboi



Series: Protection Verse [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Self-Hatred, light fluff, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-08-11 09:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakaboi/pseuds/Jakaboi
Summary: It's funny isn't it? How just as you're ready to give up on everything, as in absolutely everything, life throws you a bone.....to then beat you round the head with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dai (aka Deceit) does not match typical Deceit.  
Though he doesn't have a half-snake face, he does have heterochromia (right eye - brown, left eye - golden). He is very prone to cold/struggles to warm up easily, and wears a standard brown jacket and a black bowler hat.  
Brandon is inspired by the Branded music video by Natewantstobattle.

It was a chill fall day. Dai can just about make out a myriad of colours in the trees but beyond that, his brain refuses to connect with reality right now. Most likely it’s protesting the lack of energy in his body, not having managed to eat in…..seven days? Or is it eight? Long enough that Dai’s hand is shaking, still he’s struggling to find it in him to be really all that invested in the problem, and there’s no motivation to search for a solution.

Details are fuzzy, just out of reach as he stares aimlessly, oblivious to the passing young lady’s look of concern. As soon as she’s out of sight, her life continues and she pays him no more mind. Seems right. Seems normal. Hurts, but fits in with….’normal’. He hates normal.

There’s sunlight on him, softly golden, gently warming, soaking into his skin but barely reaching the cold inside. Dai’s head throbs, and he slumps forward, hands reaching to cradle his head. He’s supposed to be doing something right now, something important but he can’t remember what and it hurts.

His chest aches, hollow, empty, just like his head, but that space feels normal, like it’s always been there. He can’t focus and honestly all he wants right now is to lie down and fall asleep. And hey, if he doesn’t have to wake up again, that would be pretty nice.

“You alright?” A voice. A person. Someone in front of him. Someone stopped. Gazing up, Dai blinks, short black hair, a scar on his eyebrow, and one on his nose. A stranger? What do they…?.

Raising a hand, Dai tries to dismiss his question, mumbling something that may have been intended to be words but didn’t manage to match them in any way. He’s fine. No need for some stranger to forgo something important like walking their dog just to check on him. He’s almost gone anyway. Better to let him die with dignity, feeling some vague semblance of connection even if it’s completely fake.

The person says something else and suddenly Dai’s moving, arms from out of nowhere holding him tight. One around his back, the other hooked under his legs as he’s hoisted up. It’s so easy to just lean back into the hold, his limbs hanging loose as he’s….carried….? …moved…? All he knows is he’s not on the bench any more and moving actually makes him want to vomit.

He settles for passing out instead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brandon waits for the stranger to wake up...

Brandon holds his fingers against the stranger’s forehead. Still kind of cold despite the large woollen blanket wrapped around him. It’s like the guy flat out refuses to absorb any heat. Unsurprisingly he isn’t conscious, which is probably for the best, though if he doesn’t wake up soon, Brandon isn’t sure how he’s going to feed him.

“How long were you out there?” he mutters to no one.

Three days minimum if the old lady who’d pointed him out was to be believed. Three days sat in a park, on a bench, in the chill fall weather, visibly disconnected and completely alone. After trying, and failing to engage him, Brandon knew it would be better to get him somewhere warm and deal with him there.

Since the guy wasn’t waking up, and sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere, Brandon let him be, though he was sure to never be too far away, half a mind on his ‘guest’ as he continued with his normal day-to-day. Of course it’s in the five seconds his back is actually turned that there’s a loud clatter and a confused shout from the living room..

Brandon rushes in, stopping in the doorway and struggling not to laugh at the sight that greets him. The poor little dumbass has apparently managed to roll off the couch and tangle himself up in the blanket, sat in a little bundle in the middle of the room looking around in confusion. It’s probably mean, but it’s also downright hilarious and Brandon is only human. He chuckles as he watches the poor stranger struggle against the blanket and makes no move to help. Eventually, an arm is pulled free, reaching up to card his fingers through his brown hair, and out of the way of his left eye.

That stops Brandon cold. He’d already seen it, out in the park but had assumed it was a trick of the light. The sun had been starting to go down and was throwing out a nice warm glow that could make many brown eyes look golden but no, that right there wasn’t brown, or hazel, or some kind of trick. That eye was full on gold, and the more he stared, the more his brain was trying to tell hi it was glowing.

“My hat?” the stranger’s voice is quiet and he has to cough to bring back Brandon’s attention. “My _hat_.” he repeats.

Brandon just points to the table, trying to figure out what genetic line you had to be from to get an eye like that. The stranger stumbles to his feet and plucks the hat from the table carefully placing it on his own head. He also takes the brown jacket next to it and swings it round his shoulders, pulling it on.

The stranger mumbles something, probably an attempt at a thank you, though it’s very quiet and half-hearted, then before anything else can be said, he heads for the door.

“Where are you going?” Brandon asks, sounding only vaguely concerned and making no move to follow after him.

There’s the tell-tale rattle of someone trying to open the front door, and failing. After a moment, the stranger is back. Slow and clearly distrusting, he hovers in the doorway, half-glaring at Brandon.

“Open the door.” Clearly an order and not a request, but it loses its punch when it barely sounds louder than a nasty cough. Brandon just smirks.

“You’re like a stray cat.” Brandon comments and makes no move towards the door. “You just want out to do your thing, but if I let you leave, chances are I’ll find you again in a week. Dead.”

The stranger winces, and glances away. Clearly it’s a possibility he agrees with, but an outcome that he probably doesn’t oppose. Brandon frowns. That’s not right.

“I’m about to make some food,” he continues, “and like it or not, you’re going to eat something. So if you have an allergy or aversion, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Arms crossed, tutting, the stranger rolls his eyes, still not meeting Brandon’s firm glare. Still Brandon waits for a response. Eventually the stranger glances over before quickly looking away again.

“No allergies.” he mutters.

“Good.” Brandon turns, disappearing through the kitchen door. “Then I’m making burritos.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lessons are hard learned...

“Is this really necessary?” Dai asks. Brandon, as he’s learned his captor’s name to be, tugs firmly on the ziptie.

“Only until you stop running for the door.”

Dai is sat backwards over a dining room chair, his wrists pulled through and secured together with the plastic restraint so there’s no way for him to stand and run without dragging the chair along behind him. With a firm tug, Dai tests the restraint, the plastic digging into his wrists a little, just enough to hurt, but only if he pulls on it. Brandon isn’t going to make the mistake of giving him a little room again. Not after the last time. Still at least Dai he can still hold his arms relatively comfortably.

The banging on the front door starts up again, and Brandon calls out for them to be patient before heading out into the hallway. Most likely it’s the grocery delivery, though truthfully Dai doesn’t have the faintest clue what it could be. After all, these days you can buy almost anything off the internet, there’s almost no reason for Brandon to ever leave the house. Which has made Dai’s various attempts to sneak past him and break out the house more than a little pathetic.

Voices from the hallway, the exchange of pleasantries no doubt, before the door shuts with a slam, locks with a click, and though he doesn’t hear it, Dai knows that the key is getting stored somewhere very secure. He’s not managed to recover it even once yet.

“So back to our conversation.” Brandon enters, a few grocery bags in hand.

Dai rolls his eyes as his captor passes him, headed towards the kitchen, “I thought we’d settled this.”

“Well Mr Dai,” Brandon places the bags on the side before he plucks a tomato from one of them and turns, leaning back against the sideboard. Casually he tosses the produce from one hand to the other, and Dai winces internally, waiting for it to drop, “You’re very good at dancing around the issue and _acting_ like you’ve answered, but I’ve yet to hear anything definitive.”

“Is it the bowler hat?” Dai nods towards his hat, currently sat on the table behind. “I swear, sometimes it’s like it adds 50 years.”

“So you’re older than 50…?”

Dai blushes and very pointedly looks away as he mutters, “I’m not _50_…”

“So that’s a yes.” Brandon smirks.

“Why does it even _matter _how old I am?”

“Doesn’t.” Brandon shrugs, turning and proceeding to put away the groceries, “Just trying to figure you out.”

“Trust me. There’s absolutely _nothing _interesting about me.”

Dai cries out as a gallon of milk suddenly whizzes past him, missing his nose by about half a foot before heavily thunking to the floor.

“That almost _hit_ me!” he shouts.

“Good.”

Dai watches him with a slight frown.

“That’s not the first time you’ve thrown something at me.”

“Noticed that did you?”

Silence falls between them and Dai ponders. Brandon silently asks him to leave it unsaid. Don’t say it out loud. Don’t speak the words, don’t make it real. Please.

“…….You don’t want me to speak badly about myself.”

Brandon freezes, hand half in the bag. Panic grips him tight, freezing his breath in his lungs, holding him hostage for a moment, just a moment, before he starts to move again.

“No.”

Firm. Inarguable. A little angered. Denial is so much harder to hold onto when you’ve already spoken the truth. Brandon glances over his shoulder, pinning his captive with an angry glare.

“Problem?”

“…….No?”

It doesn’t make sense to him. Dai is…..surplus. He’s excess. Unwanted. There’s only so many times you can hear that from so many people before you start to buy into it. Lies become truth, truth becomes fact, and the fact is, no one cares about him. Not even Dai.

A packet of crisps hit him in the face with a crunch before dropping to the floor. Brandon stands in the doorway, his hand grasped firmly around his own chips, squeezing the bag until it opens with a loud pop.

“Eat.” Brandon nods towards the floor chips and Dai glances at them before looking up at Brandon, eyebrow raised.

“How?”

Brandon smirks pulling out a chip and popping it into his mouth with a shrug.

“Impress me.”

Dai’s cheeks flush red despite his attempts to hide it, “You’re an ass.”


End file.
